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Forum talk:Awesome Posts
Let's keep the main page clean of discussion about what's awesome or not. Anyway, I'm searching the Rps looking for awesome stuff, if you guys can remember something, tell me and I'll dig up some dirt on where it is. --Cerebral plague 12:28, 19 April 2009 (UTC) :I'd say the extreme curbstomp, but, sadly, that no longer exists. --Twentyfists 01:14, 23 April 2009 (UTC) ::What do you mean? --Cerebral plague 01:21, 23 April 2009 (UTC) :::Vladimir front-kicked a Crusade soldier in the back of the head after shooting out his legs in the Nuke RP, but Run said that it was impossible, due to the fact that Vladimir kicked straight through his head and made it explode, so I had to change it. --Twentyfists 01:23, 23 April 2009 (UTC) ::::I remember that! It was before I became a member and was looking around the site! --Cerebral plague 01:30, 23 April 2009 (UTC) :::::Yeah, actually, because the D.C. RP started, like, the day after. --Twentyfists 01:31, 23 April 2009 (UTC) ::::I never said that you couldn't break his neck, just that you couldn't make his head go kablooey. //--Run4urLife! 21:47, 23 April 2009 (UTC) I nominate this one from the Character Free room Jacob HATES Rickrolls. He throws a fridge at Bren, which knocks him out the window. As Bren lies in the street, the fridge falls on him and closes. Jacob then chains the fridge shut and welds it just to be sure. He did it right, TIG welds for the first seam, then Arc Welds for the rest. Then, he drills a small hole in the top and pours a bucket of fire ants into the fridge on top of Bren. That is how much Jacob hates being Rickrolled. --Brengarrett 17:12, 30 April 2009 (UTC) :The entire Character Free Room (well, most of it...) is pretty much one massive awesome post. No need for it. --Solbur 17:15, 30 April 2009 (UTC) Ok thats fair, so glad I started up the room? --Brengarrett 17:18, 30 April 2009 (UTC) :Hellz yea. //--Run4urLife! 17:42, 30 April 2009 (UTC) So who else nominates the following series of quite random posts from the To Find a Friend RP? Hale caught the tank before it made contact. He didn't look pleased at all. So he walked over to Georgie. He really was big up close. Hale then put Georgie in a blood choke and waited for him to pass out. He then hogtied him, gagged him and pumped him full of Jet. Then he stuffed him into a cupboard and closed it. He then jammed a broom handle between the door handles to stop them opening. (Georgie cannot escape now, without someone's help. Anyone is allowed to take pity on him without fear of Warrior Weapon reprecussion) Fniff1 23:39, 2 May 2009 (UTC) Georgie wondered how he was to get out. Then he kept banging against the door and before long it became way too annoying. One of the wastelanders that followed Galahad in had just began to drag the cupboard upstairs. Once he was out of the small "vault", he threw it down a small hill. Fniff1 23:44, 2 May 2009 (UTC) "OW!OW!OW!OW!OW!OW!" George shouted. The wastelander then continued to drag the cupboard until he got to a lake. He then threw it in before shooting it twice with his .32. The waster then ran away. (I'm out, hehe.) Johnny Fedele pulled up in his vintage 1930s-era automobile and stepped out, dragging along a Wastelander who was wearing cinderblocks for shoes by the hair. He threw said Wastelander into the same lake, adjusted his tie then drove off. --Solbur 23:56, 2 May 2009 (UTC) :Yes, I nominate those! //--Teh Krush 23:58, 2 May 2009 (UTC) I nominate this: Roy looked up, taking a brief break from gnawing on Dejan's head to luk up at what tha Little Uns were tocking abart. Some Little Un with a shiny leg. Like a robot leg. Maybe this Little Un was a robot in a cunning disgize. Roy put on his robot disgize now to fool the robot inta finking he was a robot too. This disgize consisted of rotating his helmit so that it hid his face. He droppered Dejan and walked like a protectytron ovar to the robot Little Un. "Hullo. Mah Names Roy!" Roy shouted in what was possibly the least robot-like voice ever. //--Run4urLife! 22:15, 11 May 2009 (UTC) It seems people are confused. You nominate one post, not three. You also do not create a post JUST FOR THE THREAD. This stuff is supposed to be from RPs. Also, I nominate run. --Cerebral plague 22:25, 11 May 2009 (UTC) :Those posts were from the To Find a Friend RP, but I cleared them because they were mostly pointless. //--Run4urLife! 22:31, 11 May 2009 (UTC) Any other nominations for this one? Seriously, the last line of dialogue is golden. " As if by some unseen command, the battle-lines parted between Johnson and Ranik. Johnson locked eyes with Ranik through his Tesla Armor helmet, while Ranik stared back through the lenses of his antiquated T-4x Medic Armor. Each knew that the other was burning fiery holes in the other's head with their gaze. They both seethed with hate, facing their respective sworn enemies. Johnson flourished his Okatana and drew a Desert Eagle in the other hand. He fired at Ranik as the Outcast moved to the left, returning fire with his shotgun. Each man's rounds bounced off the other man's armor. All but one. One of Johnson's bullets clipped Ranik's shoulder, penetrating his undersuit. Ranik fell to the ground, firing once more with his shotgun. The blast didn't penetrate Johnson's armor, but the sheer concussive force pitched him backwards like a super sledge. Johnson grunted as he forced himself back to his feet. Ranik snarled as he did the same. They moved towards each other. Ranik had that sick feeling of doom in his gut that had overtaken him at Fairfax. That feeling that he was going to die. He went for a punch at Johnson, who dodged, reversing the strike and answering with a kick to the thigh. Ranik staggered, and Johnson landed another punch on the venerable Outcast. Ranik's head swam as Johnson punched again and again. Only one thing stood out to him. A girl, back in California. He wanted to see her again. He had to see her again. He would see her again. With a roar of pent-up hate, rage, contempt and a reason to go on, Ranik pushed his body past its limits. Every muscle burned and every nerve-ending was set alight by the force with which he burst upwards into Johnson's chest. He sent the Warrior Weapon staggering, and before Johson could recover, Ranik had landed a kick, just like he had seen Jacob do to the Crusaders. Ranik followed up with a strike with his gun stock. The blow cracked Johnson's head backwards, but the Master Sergeant wasn't done yet. He kicked out at Ranik, desperation lending him strength as he sent Ranik sprawling. Johnson kicked Ranik's legs out from under him, and raised his Okatana to land a killing blow. "Last words, dog?" Johnson sneered. "Woof-fucking-woof!" Ranik responded as he fired his combat shotgun upwards into Johnson's groin. Just to be sure Johnson was dead. Ranik rolled to his feet and fired into Johnson's head until the drum clicked empty, and Johnson's head was smeared across the breach." Well? --Solbur 00:16, 3 June 2009 (UTC) ---- Jacob stood up slowly as first. When he had finally settled into a decent balanced position, he looked around the room. He had watched Hennard break Dutch like a match. And he knew Hennard could do the exaact same thing to him. But it didn't matter now. Jacob didn't give a fuck. This stopped now. One death was enough. One death was too many. Jacob had few friends in this world, and now he was one short. He couldn't explain, or rationalize this anger welling up in him. This need to feel Hennard's lifeblood fountain over him. This need to gut Hennard, to tear him open and splay his entrails over the dirty ground. Jacob flexed his fingers around the grip of his Okatana, and drew Dutch's katana in his left hand. He spun them both through his grip as Hennard tore himself free of the wall and turned to face him. "This ends here monster. You'll come no further. You'll never see your father again. If I get the chance, I'll kill your father myself. And there's nothing you can do, because I'm gonna kill you. Right here, right now." Jacob snarled. His hands were shaking. His heart was pounding. He could feel every crack in the ground. He could feel the draft from the surface. He could hear everyone in the room breathing. That heightened sense of awareness, as a man faces death, one on one. He blinked slowly as Hennard began his gurgling laugh. Hennard moved forwards. Jacob stepped back. Gone was the clunky blocking and ducking of the earlier fight. Gone was that sense of nervousness. Gone was that niggling sense of "will I make it?" Jacob was in a state of utter calm. Every movement was fluid. Every defence redirected Hennard, forcing him off balance, making him correct himself, tiring him. Every attack was landed with dazzling precision, inflicting pain, but not shortening the fight. It was torture. Vaughton was right there, not three feet away, and Hennard couldn't lay a finger on him. Belton was cumbersome, unweildy, but he couldn't use his hands, Vaughton would cut them off. Jacob sidestepped another attack, whirling his Okatana round, slicing clean through Hennard's right hamstring. Hennard was halfway through turning to face Jacob as he fell to his knees. Jacob stabbed his Okatana through Hennard's chest, through the heart this time. Hennard dribbled blood as his vision began to blur. But then adrenaline surged through him. He gripped Vaughton's sword, holding tight. He raised Belton in the other hand, but Vaughton stepped clear of him, spinning round and slashing Dutch's katana across Hennard's neck. The blow didn't so much decapitate him as turn him into a Pez Dispensor. Jacob stooped to Hennard's body and wrenched his Okatana free of the beast's barrel chest, as the Chimera's blood leaked out onto the floor, his hollow eyes staring into nothing. For the first time in his life, Jacob didn't stoop to close the fallen foe's eyes. Hennard killed his friend. As far as Jacob was concerned, this one deserved to stare into oblivion for all eternity. This too. //--Run4urLife! 00:19, 3 June 2009 (UTC) That one has my nomination. But stop stealing your descriptive executions from Sin City. Lol. --Solbur 00:23, 3 June 2009 (UTC) :Pez Dispensor was it. And thats because Jacob has a little of Hartigan, Marv and Dwight in him. //--Run4urLife! 00:30, 3 June 2009 (UTC) Both Walker and Cropland flanked the doors of the tent as the rain continued. "Did he just says he supports communism?" Cropland said, his hands behind his back as he stood at attention. "Aye, he did." Walker said. That was the worst combination possible! Sure, a ghoul was bad enough, but a communist ghoul? The thought was unbearable. "I got five caps says Hale rips out of his eyes." Cropland said, only his mouth moving as his helmet stayed perfectly still. "Your on, laddy." Walker said, reaching out across the tent door for a handshake with Cropland, taking a moment to leave his standing at attention. "I think he'll rip both eyes out, then smash his fingers. Want to raise the stakes?" Walker said, still at attention flanking the entrance with Cropland. "Seargeant, you have yourself a deal. Ten caps." Cropland said, shaking Walker's hand once again. The pair chuckled for a moment, then returned to duty. from the Liberation and made by Ku --Brengarrett 21:00, 4 June 2009 (UTC)